


Stress Relief (Barba x male reader)

by adrianna_m_scovill



Series: Barba x Reader [2]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Office Blow Jobs, Office Sex, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 01:31:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14250186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/pseuds/adrianna_m_scovill
Summary: Barba and "you," a male reader with whom he's in an established relationship, when you surprise him at the office after a hard day.





	Stress Relief (Barba x male reader)

You stood in the doorway for almost a minute, watching as he scratched away at his legal pad. He was frowning at the paper, and you knew he’d had a long day. Even from the doorway, you could see the tenseness in his shoulders and the stress in his face.

“Raf,” you said.

Barba looked up from his desk, and his scowl eased when he saw you. “Hey,” he said. His voice was low but held a hint of surprise. He hadn’t expected you, of course, but you’d been able to tell from his short voicemail— _I’ll be late, don’t bother waiting up. You don’t need to call back._ —that he could use some company.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you said.

“You could never bother me,” he answered, but his frown was already returning. He’d been happy to see you, but the day’s stress was still pressing down on him. “I just…” He gestured toward his desk. “Don’t have much time…”

You closed the door behind yourself, flipping the lock, and closed the blinds. There was little chance of anyone showing up this late, but you couldn’t afford to take any chances. When you looked back at Barba, you saw his throat bob as he swallowed. There was a hungry glint in his eyes, now, but also wariness. You walked toward him, loving the way his eyes tracked your progress.

“I have a lot of work to do,” he said, sounding gruff.

“I won’t interrupt,” you answered. “Keep working.”

His pupils were dilated as he looked up at you, his nostrils flared, his lips parted. He turned his chair toward you as you rounded the desk, and his hands went to your hips as you stepped between his knees. “You’ve already interrupted,” he said, but a soft smile touched his lips, and his gaze was warm as he stared up at you.

You leaned down to kiss him, and he tipped his chin up to meet your lips with his, his hands tightening on your hips. You braced your hands on his armrests, letting him claim every bit of your mouth with his tongue. You loved the taste of him, and would never tire of kissing him.

You’d come for other things, though, and when he finally drew back, you smirked at him. He knew exactly what you had in mind, of course, and his eyelids drooped at the thought. He moved his hands to the armrests and watched as you sank to your knees before him. He was breathing shallowly, his bright gaze fixed on your face.

You reached for the button of his trousers, not bothering to unfasten his suspenders; you didn’t need to lower his pants. You unzipped his fly carefully, because he was already straining at his seams. You opened the flaps of his trousers and bent your head forward, your stomach squirming in pleasant anticipation. You kissed his erection through the thin fabric of his boxer shorts, and felt the little tremor that passed through his body. His hands were gripping the chair’s armrests, his knuckles already white.

You pulled open the front of his shorts, freeing his manhood from its restraints. With your hands splayed on his thighs to steady yourself, you bent your head forward and closed your mouth around him. You knew exactly how he liked it—gentle at first, and then rough.

He knew what you liked, too. No one had ever made you feel the way he did. But this wasn’t about relieving the tension in your jeans; this was about relieving Rafael’s tensions after a long and difficult day.

As you pulled his length into your mouth, massaging him gently with your tongue, he breathed your name on a sigh. One of his hands left the chair, and his fingers spread into your hair. You closed your eyes; his warm fingertips against your scalp was one of your favorite things, which he knew.

You swallowed as much of him as you could, until the bunched fabric of his pants was pressed against your chin. He shifted his hips a little, making a sound in his throat. His hand flexed in your hair, and you knew what he wanted. You tightened your mouth around him, grazing him with your teeth, teasing him.

“ _Díos, mi amor_ ,” he groaned, and you would’ve smiled if you could. He never spoke Spanish more than he did during sex. His fist was pulling at your hair, but you didn’t mind the pain. You could feel the tension in his thighs, and you could hear the roughness of his breaths. You forced your head down further, choking yourself on his length, holding your breath as tears began to stream from your eyes. “Jesus,” he gasped, and you could feel him fighting the urge to buck against your mouth. He said your name again, and this time it was a warning—he wouldn’t be able to control himself much longer, and he didn’t want to hurt you.

You pulled back a bit, drawing an uneven breath through your nose, and rolled your eyes up to look at him through your tears. You flexed your jaw, preparing yourself, and his eyes flashed in the dim light from the lamp. He raised his other hand to your head, gripping your hair in both fists, and moved his hips, driving himself into your throat. You slid your hands from his thighs to his sides, holding onto the waistband of his pants to help steady yourself.

You kept your mouth tight—hard—using your tongue to force him against your palate with each thrust of his hips, letting your teeth graze his length. He was grunting, and you watched his face even though it was difficult to keep your eyes up and open. You wanted to see his expression when he came; you loved watching him come undone, and knowing that you were the reason for his ecstasy.

You knew he was close, and you sucked—hard, as hard as your tired jaw would allow—until his hips bucked one final time and he filled your mouth and throat with salty semen. He dropped back into the chair, letting out an unsteady breath. His hands loosened in your hair, but he didn’t release you. Instead, he pressed his fingers against your scalp, massaging your head as you pulled your mouth from his cock.

He held your gaze, and you smiled at him. You knew your chin was covered in saliva and your cheeks were streaked with tears, and you knew that he loved the look on you. His lips quirked into a smirk, and he tugged gently at your hair. You braced your hands on his thighs, again, and pushed yourself up.

“Such a mess,” he joked, tugging your shirt up to wipe at your face. “ _Nene mojado_ ,” he said.

“You like me wet,” you answered, and he pulled you forward to kiss you. Both of you were smiling when your lips met, but he slid his hand to the front of your pants and you groaned, closing your eyes. He chuckled against your mouth, and you said, “I didn’t come for me.”

“No, but you’ll come for _me_ ,” he murmured, and you could hear his amusement even though your eyes were still closed. “Won’t you, _nene_?”

“Always,” you said, but there was no strength to your voice. He unbuttoned your jeans and slid the zipper down over your erection. You weren’t wearing underwear, and you heard his small sound of approval. He pulled you free from your jeans, and you leaned forward, with your elbows on his shoulders, to kiss his jaw. “God, Raf,” you muttered breathlessly.

He pushed your jeans down your thighs. “Up on the desk, love,” he said, nudging at your hips. “Don’t mess up my paperwork.”

You opened your eyes and looked behind yourself, sliding the folders and papers carefully aside. “You do have a lot of work,” you said. “I hope I haven’t been too big a distraction.” You sat on the edge of the desk, feeling the cool, smooth wood against your bare ass.

He laughed and pushed you backward, shoving your knees apart as he moved his chair forward. “You’ve been a _very_ big distraction. Stopping by without warning. So inconsiderate,” he said, smirking as he ran a finger down the center of your abdomen. When he looked up at you, you could see the emotion in his eyes, though. He’d had a rough day, and you’d made it better. “But I forgive you, _mi amor_ ,” he murmured, barely audible.

You raised a hand to his temple, running your fingers across the patch of gray hair there. “You know I can’t stay away for long,” you told him, smiling.

“I know exactly why you stopped by,” he said, quietly, and his smirk was gone. “And I love you for it. But now, you’d better hold on to something.”

“I’ll hold onto you,” you said. Your hands were already on his shoulders, but he knew that wasn’t what you meant.

He smiled, his eyes twinkling, and leaned forward. He held your hips in his hands, his fingers splayed up to your waist, and when he took you in his mouth, your knees pressed against the sides of his ribcage. You gasped, tipping your head back and closing your eyes. Your hands found their way to his suspenders, and you held on. You wanted to move your hips but couldn’t; his grip was firm, holding you in place.

He moved quickly and roughly. You knew that he would take his time—you both would—later, at home. But for now, he knew that you’d already been teetering on the brink, and he meant to shove you over the edge.

You said his name on a moan, all of your muscles quivering as he hurtled you toward your climax. You let go of his suspenders and braced your hands on the desk behind yourself, leaning back a bit, and he loosened his grip enough to let you thrust once into his mouth. You felt his mouth tighten as he swallowed your cum, and your body shuddered. Your arms almost gave out, but your fractured brain managed just enough reason to remind you of the paperwork, and you locked your elbows.

He released your cock and grabbed a handful of your shirt, yanking you forward. You collapsed against him, arms draped over his shoulders and your cheek against his.

He whispered your name, his breath tickling your ear, and you managed to turn your head to accept his kiss. Your gazes locked and held and he reached up, running his fingers through your hair.

“Such a mess,” he murmured again, with a small smile. Somehow, he still managed to look perfect, with barely a hair out of place. “Do you want to go home and wait for me?” he asked, but he knew what your answer would be.

You shook your head, and his smile widened.

“Go rest on the couch, love. I’ll be done soon.” He helped you slide from the desk, and you stood on shaky legs between his knees. “Leave this open, I like the look,” he added, nodding toward your crotch.

You smiled, bending to press your lips against his forehead. “Anything you say, Raf,” you said, and he chuckled, tipping his face up for a kiss.

 


End file.
